


Nightbird 2005

by wheel_pen



Series: Immortals [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a hurricane in the Gulf—right now it’s headed towards Florida, but Lio Nightbird believes it will change course, and he has family in New Orleans to protect. A few scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightbird 2005

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Immortals are powerful Earth beings who have children with mortals and are supposed to take care of them. The different clans are inspired by various movies and TV shows.  
> 2\. The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.  
> 3\. I own nothing, and I appreciate the chance to play in these universes.
> 
> Lio is played by Ralph Fiennes, for visual reference.

_August 2005_

Kimora was just placing a bowl of ham and beans on the kitchen table when the doorbell rang, an unusual sound as most of their friends knocked or just let themselves in. The noise elicited several comments from the others and Kimora took it upon herself to go check the door—the little-used front on, to boot—expecting to see, perhaps, an ill-timed salesperson or a motorist who had lost their way on the back roads.

She struggled for a moment to get the door open—it was stuck somewhat, warped from the humidity and lack of us. When she finally yanked it open she saw a man’s back, a white man with dark hair and a white suit, holding a white hat in his hands and staring off towards the fading light of the sunset over the trees. Despite the warm weather her heart turned to ice before she even consciously recognized him. Then he turned around.

His eyes were blue and curious, regarding her with an odd mixture of paternalism and predation. He might help her. He might eat her. He might eat her, thinking he was helping her. Such were the thoughts that raced through Kimora’s mind as she stood there, rooted to her doorway, clutching the frame as if to stop herself from being drawn any closer to him.

From the other side of the house someone called to ask who it was. Kimora opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come out. Her throat was too dry.

Finally he spoke, his accent thick and courtly. “I have come for the child,” he told her mildly.

“No,” Kimora managed to gasp out instinctively, trying to find the strength to slam the door in his face. As if that would keep him out.

“The waters are coming,” he predicted ominously. “I must take the child to safety. She must not be endangered.”

“What?” Kimora sputtered, her fear starting to give way to confusion.

“Mommy!” said a childish voice down around Kimora’s knees. “Gigi says come to dinner!”

Both adults glanced down at the little girl, who became suddenly shy in front of the white-suited stranger. Her mother pressing her tight to her side probably didn’t inspire her confidence, either.

He smiled down at the girl, an oddly incongruous expression on his face. “Hello, Alizee,” he greeted. “I’m your daddy.”

“Land’s sake, what you still standin’ at the door for—“ The older woman stopped in her tracks on the living room carpet when she saw who stood there, but she recovered her senses faster than Kimora had. “ _You_ ,” she spat distastefully.

“Go back to the kitchen,” Kimora told her daughter, and for once the little girl didn’t pester her with questions.

“What are you doin’ here?” Janie demanded, coming up behind her granddaughter protectively.

“Hello, Janie,” he said politely, in contrast to her own tone. “I have come to take the child to safety. The waters are coming.”

“Waters? What waters?” Janie asked skeptically. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“ _Where_ is everyone?” insisted another voice. “We are starvin’ to death in here—“ The older man also seemed surprised to see their visitor, but was not nearly so affected by him. “Oh. Well, are y’all gonna come have dinner or what?”

“Otis!” Janie chided her husband, who shrugged.

“Man’s gotta eat,” he pointed out pragmatically. “’Sides, he done paid for most of the food.”

“That’s very kind of you,” the man at the door responded, as if they had issued him the most cordial invitation.

Kimora hesitated a moment longer. So did Janie. But finally the older woman decided there was no help for it and backed away from the door. It wasn’t exactly a hearty welcome, but he didn’t seem offended as he stepped into the living room and shut the door behind himself.

He looked so out of place, standing on the ordinary carpet, in front of ordinary bookcases, photographs, the organ, floral-patterned chairs. Lio Nightbird. His suit glowed white, it seemed to Kimora, unnaturally so, and the electric lighting cast strange shadows behind him. He belonged to the night, to the forest and swamps, not in her living room.

“You have a lovely home,” Lio commented, and it prompted Kimora to realize she was still standing in the living room, lost in a daze of thoughts.

“The kitchen’s this way,” she responded uncomfortably, leading him back towards the hub of activity in the house.

Janie and Otis had already made their visitor’s identity known to the others, so the room was silent when Lio walked in. Everyone wanted to get a look at him, but some expressions were merely curious, others wary. “Hang your hat up there,” Otis suggested gruffly, indicating a rack affixed to the wall.

Lio placed his white hat on the last peg. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

Shani was still shuffling things around on the table. “Here, you just have a seat,” she fussed, trying to make room for him. More than any of the others she appreciated the support he’d given her daughter and granddaughter—the others had never tried to get by on what little money could be wrung from an ex like hers. If Lio wanted to be mysterious and eccentric, she said just let him. As long as the checks kept coming.

“May I sit by the child?” Lio inquired politely, and more shuffling was done to put Alizee between him and Kimora.

“We always say grace first,” Janie informed him, as if hoping this might deter him.

“Of course,” he agreed. “May I hold your hand, Alizee?” Shyly she gave him her hand and Otis took the other. Janie intoned her prayer, everyone said ‘amen,’ and then she looked up to see that their visitor was still there—he had not burst into flame or dissolved into a puddle of goo. She was slightly disappointed.

“You must be Kimora’s brother, Tyrese,” Leo said conversationally to the young man across from him. “How is your job at the drug store?”

Tyrese looked up from the food he was piling on his plate, slightly startled to be noticed. “It’s, uh, it’s fine,” he reported. “Um, we got in some cartons of toothpaste today, and the labels were all mixed up. Spent the whole afternoon trying to straighten it out.”

“Well, it was very busy at the library today,” Shani put in, with somewhat forced casualness. “Everyone was checking out books right and left. I don’t know what the rush was.”

“I did a painting!” Alizee burst in enthusiastically. “It’s a bird!”

“I would love to see it,” Lio told her. “Perhaps after dinner? Though,” he added to the room at large, “I’m afraid I cannot stay long. I have several families in the area to visit tonight. I will come back tomorrow, after sunset, for the child.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why you want to take her,” Kimora protested hesitantly, gathering the little girl onto her lap.

“The waters are coming,” Lio repeated. “I will take the child to Shreveport, where she will be safe. I will return her when the danger has passed.” He continued to eat as though his comment was perfectly normal.

“Waters? _What_ waters?” Janie asked, for the second time. “What’s coming?”

“The waters will come, and the levees will burst,” Lio announced. “The torrents will wash through the streets, and the city of New Orleans will be wiped from the face of the Earth by the hand of God. My, this cornbread is delicious.”

Lio looked up to find everyone staring at him. Unconcerned, he kept eating the homemade cornbread.

“Are you—are you talking about the hurricane?” Tyrese guessed tentatively. “But it’s headed towards Florida.”

“Its path will change,” Lio replied confidently, spooning up some green beans. “There will be death and destruction all across the coast. No power, no food or water, no shelter. There will be violence and despair. The child must not be endangered by this.”

Kimora shivered suddenly in the warm kitchen, even as Alizee protested her tightening hold. If Lio had looked out of place in the living room, the effect was even worse in the kitchen, which was usually a place of light and cheer. He seemed to draw a cold and sinister cloud behind him wherever he went—perhaps Lio himself wasn’t sinister, but the events he foretold were. And bizarre as his words sounded, Kimora couldn’t help but believe them.

“We’ve weathered hurricanes before,” Otis tried to scoff, but he didn’t sound very convinced.

“I _will_ take the child,” Lio reiterated between bites of mashed potatoes, “and I will also take anyone else who wishes to come. I have an apartment building in Shreveport with plenty of room.”

“Is it—is it really going to be that bad?” Shani asked fearfully. Her apetite had fled, and hers wasn’t the only one. Only Lio and Alizee were still eating.

“Well it _sounds_ pretty bad,” Tyrese pointed out. “Remember last year during that storm when the power was out for three days, and me and Grandpa had to sit out on the porch all night watching for looters?”

“Yes, picture that,” Lio agreed, “but for weeks.” His tone stayed unnervingly casual. “Pack up your valuables and your sentimental items,” he advised, sipping his lemonade. “I will have room for whatever you wish to bring. But you must be ready by tomorrow night.”

“Mom, what about Gran?” Shani asked suddenly. “Do you think we ought to—“

“Pardon me,” Lio interrupted, “but I have already spoken to Sally. She will be going to Shreveport tonight.”

“What?!” Janie’s frustration suddenly boiled over. “You had _no right_ to make that decision! Willie and I are—“

“Pardon me,” Lio interrupted again, ever courteous, “but I did not make the decision, Sally did. I’m sure you will agree that her mind is as sharp as ever.”

“How do you know Grandma Sally?” Tyrese asked curiously. His great-grandmother was in an assisted-living facility in the city and, as Lio had said, mentally as sharp as ever despite her physical disabilities.

“Nightbird’s been plaguing this family for a long time,” Janie muttered darkly.

“Mama,” Shani chastised.

“You’re too young to remember your great-grandma, Rosie,” Janie reminded her, “but I remember her and her stories very well. I even remember _my_ great-grandma a little—LaWilla.” Here she gave Lio a look of great significance, as if hoping to rattle him.

It didn’t seem to work. “Did you know,” Lio began casually, seemingly to Tyrese, “that you and I are related? One of my ancestors—Lionel Nightbird, for whom I am named, in fact—was also Sally’s grandfather. He was your great-great-great grandfather, I believe.”

Tyrese goggled at him slightly. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Lio assured him. “Some say the connection goes back even further. Perhaps LaWilla had heard that?” he added, giving Janie his own look. “We Nightbirds have always kept in touch with this family.”

“And we’ve always appreciated it,” Shani replied quickly, though her mother didn’t look so grateful.

There was a moment’s pause that threatened to turn awkward. Then Lio laid his napkin beside his empty plate and stood. “Well, I must apologize for leaving so soon, but I must speak to my other families tonight.” He rested his hand briefly on Alizee’s head. “Please have the child ready to go by tomorrow evening. I will call with the time as I get closer. Perhaps you can bring your painting with you and show me?” he suggested to the little girl, who stared up at him silently. Lio took his hat from the rack. “Thank you very kindly for dinner.”

“I’ll show you out,” Kimora offered, when it seemed as though he was waiting for something. She set Alizee back in her own chair and walked Lio back to the front door he had entered through. He opened it himself, seemingly without difficulty.

He turned back to face Kimora on the doorstep. “She is a lovely child,” he said. “You have done a fine job with her.”

“You’re really gonna take her tomorrow?” Kimora confirmed.

“It _is_ my right,” Lio reminded her carefully, “and she will be safer. I hope all of you will come as well.” He produced a business card from the humid air and handed it to her. Her eyes were drawn to his logo, a jet-black bird. “This is the address in Shreveport. Please let your cousins know. But tell them it will be harder to leave soon, after the hurricane changes course and the evacuation is ordered.”

“How do you know these things?” Kimora asked suddenly, surprising herself with the question. Usually she didn’t question too much—she just listened and made up her own mind. Sometimes people said the most when they _weren’t_ asked.

But Lio merely smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “Don’t worry, Kimora, I will take care of you, and the child,” he replied, his honeyed tone old-fashioned yet reassuring. “If you will permit me.” Then he turned away and marched down the creaky porch steps. He set the white hat on his head and crossed the road, sauntering straight into the woods as though strolling down the sidewalk. For a moment Kimora could see the speck of white from his suit through the trees—and then it vanished completely. She wondered briefly if she had imagined the whole scene. Then she heard her mother and grandmother arguing in the kitchen, and she knew it had, somehow, been real.

**

The phone was very busy that night. Shani and Janie were calling all of their relatives, to warn and to complain, and then the calls started coming _to_ the house, from people who had heard crazy things third or fourth hand and wanted details. In between phone calls the two women debated what they should do about their possessions in the house—Janie finally seemed to accept the idea that something bad was coming, not that hurricane damage was so implausible around here—but what should be packed up, and how and where, with an implication of whether or not they should go with Lio and bring some items with them… that was the real question. The two women sent Tyrese to the local dollar store repeatedly for plastic bins, garbage bags, and packing paper. The other members of the household found it best to stay out of their way until they’d settled on a plan.

Kimora’s cell phone rang and she wasn’t surprised to see that it was Lizabeth, who lived more in town. “ _Did he come to see you tonight?_ ” was her first question, and Kimora didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. Lio was what had brought Kimora and Lizabeth together; they had run in different circles all through school and Lizabeth was a year or two younger besides. But those things seemed less important now.

“Yes, he was here,” Kimora confirmed, shutting the door between her and Alizee and going further down the hall. “He sat down and had dinner in the kitchen.”

Lizabeth snorted. “ _He sat on my back porch eatin’ peach pie and ice cream, talkin’ about the end of the world_.” She sounded like she wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. “ _Wanted me to call my daddy and aunts and uncles and warn them. Crazy talk._ ” She paused. “ _You gonna go with him?_ ” That, of course, was why she had called.

Kimora sighed. In a way she hadn’t made her mind up yet—but it also seemed kind of inevitable. Similar to the situation that resulted in her daughter. “He says he’s taking Alizee,” she explained to her friend, “and I don’t want her going off to Shreveport alone. If I go, my mama will want to go, but then she’ll worry about Grammy and Pop-Pop and Tyrese, and she’ll bug them about going. She’s already called Antwon and told him he needs to leave.” Not that her older brother would listen—he had a good job in the city and thought he knew better than everyone, especially his family back in the sticks who lived mostly on a sugar daddy’s money.

“ _Mm-hmm_ ,” Lizabeth commented thoughtfully. She liked to pretend she was tough and independent, and in some ways she was, but she didn’t let that get in the way of her good sense. “ _Well, he says he’s takin’ K’Viontay for sure, so… guess I’ll tell Wally I’m takin’ a couple days off_ ,” she decided, sounding as though she didn’t mind letting her accountant boss fend for himself for a while.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Kimora remarked, realizing that she suddenly had a lot to do. And no idea where to start.

Her mother and grandmother were carefully wrapping their decorative plate collection in paper, putting each dish in a plastic bag, then tucking _that_ into a garbage bag inside a plastic bin. Otis and Tyrese had been charged with wrapping up family photos and albums in a similar manner. Kimora decided to help by backing up the family computer and making a copy they could take with them—useful but tedious work that gave her time to think.

The old people told a few stories about “the Nightbird” in these parts—old wives’ tales about creatures who appeared as beautiful women or handsome men, bent on seducing humans and having children with them. Kind of weird, really, but perhaps at one time it worked to explain why the neighbors had seen you with a woman who was not your wife, or why an unattached girl was suddenly pregnant. It must be the Nightbird! Really, that’s what happened.

Not that Lio seduced Kimora, in the sense that ‘seduced’ implied some kind of resistance on her part. But she had initially thought his name was just a funny coincidence; now, she didn’t believe in coincidences like that. Her grandma claimed that _her_ grandmother—Rosie—was the daughter of the Nightbird, that he had seduced LaWilla back at the turn of the twentieth century. Rosie had made her living as a fortune teller, herbalist, and general practitioner of benign magic—you could get away with that back then. Her abilities, which Janie always claimed were genuine, were supposed to be further evidence of her unnatural parentage.

Rosie had lived an extraordinarily long time, for someone of her era, and Kimora thought she vaguely remember her herself, an elderly woman presiding over the massive family reunion they used to hold every year. Janie said Rosie had singled Kimora out, knew she was destined for something special—of course she only said that _after_ Lio had knocked on their door, introduced himself, and made his proposal to Kimora.

She didn’t agree lightly. She wasn’t going to be _that_ girl, like so many of her classmates, who had a baby daddy but no husband, who were single mothers struggling to make ends meet—even if Lio promised that she wouldn’t have to _struggle_. But times were tough; Rosie’s family had many branches and not all had fared well.

Afterwards Kimora had become very interested in genealogy and had tried to trace out her living relatives—there were several girls around her age, but Lio had chosen _her_ , perhaps because he knew they needed the money more. It wasn’t that she resented it; she had made the choice freely, and now she had Alizee and a generous check each month that bought them a nice house, that allowed Janie and Otis to retire, that kept her from working overtime at the diner. It was just… the more she learned about her family history, the more she felt like she hadn’t had a choice at all. Janie had suggested that Rosie wasn’t the first Nightbird child in their line, though records were unsurprisingly scarce before the twentieth century.

She hadn’t seen Lio since Alizee was born. He didn’t visit or even call. That wasn’t what he wanted. But he sent gifts, and letters, and he wanted regular reports on Alizee. It was easier than ever to keep him up to date, what with digital photography and email. But if she ever missed a week in her correspondence, _then_ his office would call—not him, though, never him.

Really, she had no reason to fear him like she did—over and over again he indicated he only wanted the best for Alizee. But, it was all undeniably weird—the businesslike letters, the other women she knew of who were in the same situation with him, the way the older generation muttered their little comments and superstitions. Kimora didn’t know any of them who had refused to touch his money, though. Not even her grandmother.

And now Lio was back and saying they were all in danger, that this hurricane was something terrible and strange. Her grandfather was right, they had survived hurricanes before—there had been property damage, a few unpleasant days when the power and water went out, but nothing that had really put them out. Lio hadn’t come knocking _then_ , though he was always generous when it came to paying the bills later. Clearly he felt this storm was different, and that was just… creepy. He seemed so certain.

It reminded Kimora of the stories about Rosie and her predictions. According to Janie the Nightbird talent was for magic, or spiritual beliefs in general—some of Rosie’s children had stayed in the magic business while others had “rebelled” and embraced organized religion, becoming charismatic preachers and brilliant scholars. It made Kimora wonder about her daughter, about what she would grow up to become—already she was very imaginative and intuitive, and sometimes she seemed to pick up on things that other people didn’t. Maybe it was really that she knew them already. Kimora shivered a little at that thought, refusing to match such an image to her beautiful little girl.

But it didn’t stop her from feeling caught up in events she couldn’t control, couldn’t resist. The Nightbird, and the hurricane—inevitable forces in life in this region, it seemed. At least Lio seemed to be well-intentioned. Maybe.

**

They were up late packing. Then they were up early packing. Nerves frayed and tensions rose—the hurricane was still headed for Florida, and in the light of day some family members felt foolish for listening to Lio, for getting so worked up, for even _thinking_ about leaving on such a flimsy warning. Others urged them to keep packing all the more desperately.

The phone ringing off the hook with friends and family with the same uncertainties didn’t help. As the day wore on, Kimora, who was usually quite even-tempered, began to get brusque and irritable. The heat and humidity rose. Alizee turned downright cranky and contrary, and Kimora frankly couldn’t blame her. She felt like stamping her feet and bawling, too.

“Yes?” Kimora snapped into the phone late in the afternoon. Immediately she felt bad; she shouldn’t have answered, she supposed, but the ringing really got on her nerves.

“ _This is Eula, from Lio Nightbird’s office_ ,” said a professional, female voice, and Kimora felt doubly chided.

“Oh, right, of course,” she fumbled. “Er, sorry.”

“ _It’s alright_ ,” the woman assured her. “ _We just wanted to let you know we’d be there in about two hours._ ”

“Two hours?” Kimora repeated, glancing at the clock.

“ _That’s right_ ,” Eula confirmed. “ _Please have everyone who’s leaving ready to go then_.”

“Um, sure,” Kimora agreed. Eula hung up. Kimora wondered just who _would_ be leaving when the time came.

“Hey, Mom!” Tyrese called from the living room. “They said the hurricane was slowing down! It might change course!”

Kimora felt a sudden coldness in the pit of her stomach and the world narrowed and darkened. She sat down before she could faint, nausea chasing her.

It was true. The storm was coming for them.

If most of the day had been frenzied, the next two hours were total chaos. Kimora spent most of it obsessively packing and watching CNN’s meteorological reports with a sick fascination. All the plastic bins of valuables were stacked in bedrooms and closets on the second floor—giving them height in case of floods and the attic above in case of roof damage. People kept finding new things that _needed_ to be packaged up—ten-year-old financial records, grade school report cards, Otis’s one nice suit, Tyrese’s CD collection. The young man bought out all the plastic bins in town and had to go to the Wal-Mart along the highway. Nothing could be decided without much bickering and baseless speculation. Kimora wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to be rescued with these people, not if it meant a long ride to Shreveport with them.

The hurricane hovered in the Gulf, churning the waters while it decided which way to go. The journalists filled the time with their own baseless speculation, accompanied by little computer drawings and animations. Alizee squalled and threw a temper tantrum.

And then suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was the front door again, and Kimora had a feeling it was Lio, come at last. Part of her actually felt relieved, that they could finally get this waiting over with and just _go_. Another part was suddenly terrified, not knowing where they _were_ going or what they would find when they got there. The thought of residing in a mass shelter filled her with despair—that was what she pictured, even though he had said ‘apartment building.’

And she couldn’t get the door open.

The wood had swelled even more in the humid air and Kimora yanked on it with increasing frustration and recklessness. Finally it gave way, sending her stumbling backwards and pinching the skin of her hand. The pain was minor, but it was the last straw, and Kimora burst into tears.

Lio stuck his head around the door cautiously. “May I come in?” Kimora nodded, embarrassed, trying to stem the flow of her tears. He went to her immediately, a humanizing concern warming his ice-blue eyes, and took the hand she was rubbing. “It’s alright, ma chere,” he murmured, his skin soothingly cool against hers. “Everything will be alright.”

“I just—It’s all—“ Kimora tried, really making an effort to explain herself. Lio nodded as if he understood, and somehow the fact that _he_ —this mysterious _creature_ with his sinister prophecies of doom—was the one who understood her made her cry all the harder.

“Come and sit down,” Lio suggested, guiding her to the plastic-wrapped bench in front of the plastic-wrapped organ. The instrument was too heavy to move upstairs, so they’d done their best to protect it where it stood.

“It’s just a mess!” Kimora blurted, as if that clarified anything.

Lio knelt on the carpet in front of her and handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. It was crisp and snow-white and cool, though quickly soiled in Kimora’s hands. “Now you take this and dry your eyes,” Lio suggested. She felt quite safe suddenly, as though he would protect her as long as she seemed vulnerable and helpless. “My assistants will take care of things.”

Glancing towards the still-open door Kimora saw at least half a dozen young women come streaming in, all elegantly dressed in chic suits and high heels. They dispersed efficiently through the house like worker ants and soon began to reappear carrying overstuffed suitcases and plastic bins, with no visible effort.

“Now, who’s coming with the child to Shreveport?” Lio asked, still holding Kimora’s hand.

“Well, all of us, I guess,” Kimora sniffed, feeling slightly calmer. “Me. And my mama. I think my grandparents are coming, too.”

“And Tyrese?”

“Yes, I think so,” she confirmed. “Oh, my suitcase is still upstairs! I didn’t finish packing my—“

“We do have stores in Shreveport,” Lio reminded her gently, with a slight smile. “Whatever items you need can be easily purchased. But have you packed the things that can’t be replaced?”

She thought of the family photos and newsletters, their identity records, Alizee’s best paintings. “Yes.” They were coming with them.

He smiled at her reassuringly. “Good. Where is the child?”

As if on cue Alizee’s howl of protest was heard from the next room. “Mama! Want Mama!”

Kimora sighed but didn’t move towards her daughter; she knew from experience that today the girl would claim to want her, then push away when she came near. Alizee wandered into the room, mouth stretched open and face scrunched up, ready to start sobbing. Lio stood in one fluid motion and scooped her up before she could even register his presence, startling her out of her tantrum.

“Hello, Alizee,” he told her cheerfully. “I’ve got something for you.” He opened his jacket and let her pull something out of the inner pocket. It was a black Barbie doll with a colorful dress and long, silky hair, which Kimora swore could not have fit there. “Do you know what that is?” Lio prompted the girl.

“A doll,” she replied, stroking its hair.

“That’s right.” A lovely woman in an expensive suit walked by, toting Kimora’s suitcase in one hand and Tyrese’s duffel bag in the other, as easily as if they were a couple of tiny evening bags. Another followed, two plastic bins stacked in her arms, and didn’t seem to have any trouble seeing around them. They all bore a remarkable resemblance to the Barbie doll, actually, with their perfect hair and clothing, ready to be pediatricians or astronauts or rock stars without ever smudging their make-up.

“Let’s go on outside,” Lio suggested, carrying Alizee easily with one arm. With the other he reached for Kimora. “Maybe it will encourage the others along.”

“Okay,” Kimora agreed, standing. She still felt a little shaky and now the exhaustion was starting to catch up with her as well. “I just need to get my—“

“I’ve got your purse here,” one of Lio’s assistants said, popping up suddenly. “And a jacket, Alizee’s bookbag and jacket—“

“I like Ernie,” Alizee volunteered, pointing at her colorful bag emblazoned with a _Sesame Street_ character.

“What’s Ernie like?” Lio inquired, bringing her out onto the porch. She seemed entranced by the doll and not at all uncomfortable with him.

Finding that she did not, in fact, need to grab anything else from the house—they had done what they could and just had to hope it was enough—Kimora drifted towards the door and stared out at the gathering twilight, the humid air clinging to her skin as the insects chirped innocently. Was this really all going to be destroyed by the storm and the flood? Well, the insects would come back soon enough—it was the human-made structures that would fall first. Gradually her eyes refocused and she saw the vehicle parked out front, like a small bus—the kind the local nursing home toted the seniors around in for daytrips, she thought idly. Plenty of room for their family, but she wasn’t sure how all of Lio’s assistant would fit on it as well.

“Excuse me,” one of them said politely, and Kimora stepped aside as the woman swept out of the house carrying a large cooler.

“Mama, they _do_ have food in Shreveport,” Kimora said to her mother as the older woman followed.

“Well, I just didn’t want it to go bad,” Shani protested.

“Now have we got everything?” Janie was saying as she left the house. “Did we turn the stove off? Did you lock the back door? Did you close the upstairs window?”

“Hey, cool bus,” Tyrese remarked. “Did you rent it?”

“They come in handy,” was Lio’s vague reply. He set Alizee down on the steps of the bus. “Go on and pick a seat now,” he told her. “Your mama’s comin’.” Kimora drifted over, barely able to think for herself anymore, she was so tired. Lio’s suit almost glowed in the fading light, it seemed, or maybe her eyes were just so heavy she couldn’t see straight. “Up you go,” Lio encouraged, handing her into the bus.

The seats looked plush and comfortable and Kimora sank into one gratefully, pulling Alizee into her lap. The girl squirmed around until she could look out the window. “That’s my daddy,” she said thoughtfully, watching Lio herd her older relatives towards the bus.

“That’s right, that’s your daddy,” Kimora confirmed sleepily, determined not to nod off until the bus was moving.

Shani, Janie, Otis, and Tyrese finally climbed aboard, each making the same comments about the comfort of the seats and the efficiency of the movers. “Hey, there’s the dog,” Tyrese said suddenly. “Can we bring the dog?”

“Not even our dog,” Janie scoffed with disapproval. The stray collie sat in front of the porch steps quite comfortably, his head cocked at a curious angle.

“Doggie! Doggie!” Alizee cried in sudden distress. “Ernie! Don’t go, Ernie!”

Kimora was jolted from her stupor and tried to calm the girl. “Shh, it’s alright, we’ll see the doggie again later.” She hadn’t picked up on the collie being dubbed Ernie.

Alizee was outright crying now. “Wake up, Ernie! Wake up!”

“He _is_ awake, he’s sitting right there—“

“Best take the dog, I think,” Lio decided gravely, placing a hand on Alizee’s head. The action seemed to soothe her. “It won’t be fit for man nor beast here.” He walked back to the door of the bus—Kimora hadn’t even seen him get on—and summoned the dog, who trotted in quickly. Lio turned back to look at them all, as if making sure everything was settled. “I’ll see you in Shreveport,” he finally announced.

“You’re not coming with us?” Kimora asked, suddenly alarmed. She had felt safe as long as Lio was around, but if he left—

“I have other families I must gather,” he reminded her gently. “But I will see you later tonight, or perhaps tomorrow. Eula will take good care of you.” The young woman in the driver’s seat turned back and waved cheerfully, her stylish clothing a bit out of place. Before Kimora could lodge another silly protest, Lio stepped off the bus and the door shut behind him. Immediately the engine came on and the vehicle pulled onto the road. Kimora stared out the window, unsure whether she was watching the house or Lio fade away. There was no other vehicle in sight—and no army of assistants, either. Somehow that didn’t seem to be a problem for him.

They weren’t quite at the highway when Kimora finally fell asleep.

**

She awoke in a parking garage.

“Wake up, everyone, we’re here!” Eula announced sunnily. She stood at the front of the bus like an enthusiastic tour guide, her jewelry sparkling in the light from above the seats and the ceiling of the garage. She might have been Italian, or Latina, or maybe Indian or part African, with a little Chinese thrown in—Kimora hoped her indiscreet grandfather wouldn’t ask her. She also might have been a model, someone whose high cheekbones and bright eyes adorned a giant billboard for perfume or expensive liquor. But instead she was standing on a bus in a parking garage, looking at some sleep passengers, a lot of luggage, and a dog.

“This is the Nightbird building in Shreveport,” Eula went on as the rest of them struggled to wake up. “We have our own underground parking and plenty of cars available, should you need to borrow one. If you’ll just follow me, someone will get your things and bring them up to your apartment.”

Kimora grabbed her purse and Alizee’s bag, not wanting to leave them behind even temporarily, and carried the still-sleeping girl off the bus. She was still tired herself, and oddly hungry as well—suddenly she was grateful for the cooler of food her mother had insisted upon bringing.

The garage was cool and slightly orange, thanks to the lights overhead, and also vast—Kimora couldn’t see any walls, just a few vehicles and the space stretching into blackness at the edges. Even the elevator nearby was just enclosed in a pillar of concrete, with cars beyond it.

“Right this way, please,” Eula continued, aiming them for the elevator.

“You allow pets, don’t you?” Tyrese asked with some uncertainty, eyeing the dog.

“Of course!” Eula assured him. “I think Ernie will be very happy here!” Another woman, equally well-dressed, seemed to appear from nowhere and handed Eula a small envelope. The elevator dinged pleasantly and the doors opened, revealing a surprisingly large space, and everyone got on. Kimora almost didn’t notice when it started to move, it was so smooth.

Eula opened the envelope she’d been handed and began distributing plastic hotel-type keys. “You’ll be in apartment 3518,” she told them. “It has three bedrooms and three bathrooms, and there’s a study with a fold-out couch. I hope that’s okay,” she added, genuinely concerned. “Please let me know if there’s anything wrong!” She then gave them a couple copies of a lavish, full-color brochure. “On our second level we have a number of stores and restaurants,” she went on, “and there are many other attractions throughout the building, including play areas, lounges, gardens, and sports areas.”

“Oh my,” Shani remarked, looking over the brochure. She seemed impressed.

“I’ll be happy with a decent mattress,” Otis grumbled. “You bring any coffee with you?” he asked Janie.

“The apartment comes with a coffee maker,” Eula spouted helpfully, “and there are Starbucks located on multiple levels.”

“Ooh, they’ve got a spa,” Shani noticed, gazing at the pictures. “I could get me a massage.”

“This isn’t a vacation,” Janie snapped. “We’re just gonna be here a couple of days, that’s all. Lotta fuss over nothing.”

Kimora didn’t have Rosie’s gift for telling the future, but she suspected her grandmother didn’t either. And if Lio thought they needed to leave the area—well, mysterious or not, Kimora was beginning to trust him more and more. This place was no hastily-constructed shelter, that was for sure. Lio had a whole empire that she had never imagined until now.

The elevator dinged again and Eula guided them out into the wide, bright hallway. It looked like the hallway in a nice hotel, with neutral colors, tasteful artwork, and furniture that was largely decorative. Numbered doors, situated fairly far apart, broke up the beige walls.

And then something else appeared in the middle of the wall: a niche with a padded bench in it, up against a window. But the window didn’t look out over downtown Shreveport—it looked out over a tropical rainforest with exotic flowers, palm trees, and a waterfall cascading into a pond twenty feet below. Despite her fatigue Kimora stopped to stare, entranced.

“That’s one of our atriums,” Eula pointed out proudly. “It covers four stories at the center of the building. Two floors below you can walk through it!”

“It’s beautiful,” Kimora breathed.

“Open twenty-four hours,” the assistant chirped.

“What room are we again?” Otis prompted.

“3518,” Eula answered. “Right here!” She borrowed the older man’s card and swiped them in. The adults dispersed sleepily through the rooms, taking stock of where they would be staying.

It wasn’t as spacious as their house, of course, but it was quite impressive for an apartment. There was a kitchen with full-sized appliances, a comfortable living room whose windows _did_ look out over downtown Shreveport, and even a dining area. The bedrooms were almost too perfect: a queen for Janie and Otis, a full for Shani, and two twins in one room for Kimora and Alizee. The study boasted not only a sleeper sofa for Tyrese but also his own flat-screen TV, smaller than the one in the living room but delighting him nonetheless. And strangest and most convenient of all was the small room that seemed to have no purpose but to store their bins and bags safely. The food they’d brought had already been put in the fridge.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me, anytime. My name’s Eula,” the assistant emphasized. “Just dial zero on the phone and ask for me. We have an extensive room service menu available twenty-four hours a day…” She could see she was losing her audience and decided to wrap it up. “Feel free to explore the building. All goods and services are complimentary, just use your room key like a credit card. Have a good evening!” Then she left.

Kimora expected her grandmother would have plenty to say about this place, most of it not very nice—speculation about how Lio made his money and how he chose to spend it, for example. Kimora didn’t want to hear it, not now, not when they were benefiting from Lio’s hospitality. He had done exactly what he’d said he would do, provide for Alizee—and he thought it was important she have family around her, so he provided for them as well. No one had been forced into anything—and no one had been promised anything that didn’t materialize, like a normal relationship. Nothing about this whole setup made sense, at least not to Kimora’s sleep-fogged brain—but you couldn’t deny that Lio had seen to all their needs.

**

Sometime in the night, the storm made up its mind—and changed course for New Orleans.

The predictions were dire, but they always were. An evacuation order was issued, but it always was. Lots of people ignored those orders and just hunkered down for a few days to ride it out, like Otis had wanted to. Lots of people didn’t have a car to evacuate in or money to pay for a bus ticket, and nowhere they could afford to go. Antwon was definitely in the former camp, at least all the times Shani called him that morning. He didn’t believe it was going to be any worse than the storms they’d had earlier in the year.

But Kimora kept thinking of what Lio had said as he sat so calmly at their dinner table. “The levees will burst. The city of New Orleans will be wiped from the face of the Earth by the hand of God.” She shivered a little, curled up on the couch in the living room, and stared at the grey drizzle coming down over Shreveport. Out of her eyeline satellite pictures of the hurricane churned on the TV screen.

There was a knock on the door and Shani opened it to find, to their surprise, Lio—with two little girls about Alizee’s age. Kimora blinked as she realized she was seeing him in broad daylight for the first time—though it wasn’t _that_ much daylight, for certain. “May I come in?” he asked politely, and Shani indicated yes. “This is Raven,” he went on, nodding at the dark-skinned girl whose hand he held, “and this is Nevaeh.” The little blond curled close to his shoulder. “I thought perhaps Alizee would like to come play with them, and the other children.”

He gave Raven a little push and she trotted up to Alizee, who sat on the couch toying with her new Barbie doll. “I’ve got one with wings,” she announced proudly. “Like a butterfly.”

“Nuh-unh,” Alizee contradicted skeptically.

“I do,” Raven insisted. “Daddy got it for me. Want to see?”

Well-trained, Alizee turned to her mother. “Can I go, Mama?”

Kimora tore her gaze from Lio, who wore the same white suit and looked like he’d gotten far more sleep than she had. She stood up from her seat, slightly stiff. “I’ll go, too,” she decided. It was better than sitting around the apartment doing nothing but watch CNN.

“Me, too,” Shani decided cheerfully. “Come on, Mama, you should come too.”

“Think I’ll just set here for a while,” Janie replied blandly, apparently fascinated with her knitting. The look she shot over her glasses, though, said she didn’t approve of going anywhere with Lio.

He signaled for the little girls to follow him and Raven and Alizee danced down the corridor together, giggling as only instant friends could. “Stay where I can see you,” Kimora warned when her daughter darted briefly around a corner.

“Would you like to play with the others?” Lio murmured to the little girl he carried, but she shook her head and clutched his shoulder tightly. Kimora found it oddly comforting that there was _something_ he couldn’t do, like pry a shy little girl away from him. “After you, ladies,” he said, indicating the open elevator before them.

It was not the same elevator they had come up in the evening before—this one had glass walls that gave them a breathtaking view of the building’s interior as they sped downward. Kimora saw countless floors, greenery from the atriums, the sapphire glimmer of a swimming pool—it didn’t all seem to fit together somehow, inside this building. “What is all this?” she finally asked, more to herself than anyone else.

She was a little startled when Lio answered. “Your home, for as long as you need it,” he said, utterly sincere, piercing her with the blue eyes that seemed to read every thought in her head. “Here we are,” he went on as the elevator stopped. “Come on, girls.”

They exited into a large space at the center of the hotel—it was almost like a platform suspended there and surrounded by railings, with bridges to the hallways around the outer walls; Kimora could see glimpses of the level below in the gap between the platform and the hall. She could never forget that she was in a cavernous structure, but oddly the sounds from above and below weren’t too loud.

At one end was a play center, a small child’s paradise with a toy kitchen, blocks, stuffed animals, an arts and crafts table, and more, all laid out with cheerful colors and bright lighting. Alizee and Raven didn’t have to be told twice that this was their destination; even shy Nevaeh finally squirmed down and ran off to join the children who were already playing there. Beyond the play area was a low wall, on the other side of which a few older children were playing with their own accessories; and in front of it were some café-style tables and cozy couches. The only blight on the picture were the TV monitors on the walls, most of which turned to CNN or the Weather Channel.

“I am afraid the news is inescapable,” Lio said, seeing Kimora’s eyes drift towards the broadcast. “I can turn off the one nearest you, though.”

“No, no, that’s alright,” Kimora assured him. “I just—“

“Kimora!” said a familiar voice, and she turned to see her friend Lizabeth hopping up from one of the tables. The two women embraced, then she and Shani embraced. “Guess you guys made it,” she observed.

“Where’s K’Viontay?” Kimora asked, not seeing the toddler around.

“Oh, he’s in the baby section right over there,” Lizabeth replied. “Have you looked around this place?” she added conspiratorially to Kimora. “I knew Lio was loaded, but—“

Kimora shushed her and looked around for their host, but he had wandered off to check on the play area. He was crouched near the arts and crafts table, talking to a woman with dark hair and striking eyes. “Who’s that?” Kimora asked, since her friend seemed to be up on the details.

“That’s _Mrs._ Nightbird,” Lizabeth revealed juicily. “Or one of them anyway. Her name’s Tali.”

Kimora knew Lio was married. That hadn’t been an issue. She wasn’t even surprised to hear there was more than one, because everything here seemed outside the normal rules of society. There was something exotic and mysterious about Tali—maybe it was because her eyes had that same quality of seeming to see straight to your soul that Lio’s did. Kimora found herself staring at them, into them, feeling as though she was staring at something incredibly old and powerful.

Then suddenly Lio was in front of her. “Why don’t you sit down, ma chere?” he suggested gently, guiding her to a chair. He had stepped into her line of sight and when he moved, Tali was gone. “Eula will bring you some tea, or coffee,” he added, and the beautiful woman from the night before smoothly stepped into his place.                                                                             

**

The lounge was deserted at this hour; all the children who would have been frolicking in the play center were in bed, and the adults were either in their rooms or enjoying the other amenities of the building. Kimora didn’t really feel nervous, though; she could still hear the hum of distant voices on the other levels and glimpse the occasional person walking by in the hall. Including, when she turned around, Lio.

She had gotten used to the white suit by now, the way it seemed glow in dim light, even when there was no ‘audience’ for him to impress. He strode confidently down the corridor, his expression preoccupied, and she would have let him walk on by, only she couldn’t stop staring at him. She felt as though if she stared hard enough she might somehow stare through him the way he stared through her. Even though she didn’t move or make a sound, he felt her gaze and turned curiously. Then she was caught, and she fidgeted awkwardly as he changed course and approached her.

“Hello,” he greeted cordially.

“Alizee forgot her doll,” Kimora blurted guiltily, indicating the Barbie doll in her hand that Lio had given the girl. “I came to get it.”

He smiled slightly. “You could have asked Eula to get it for you.”

“Well, I—“ The thought had occurred to her, but she had rejected it. “I guess I just wanted to be alone for a little while,” she admitted in a small voice. She hadn’t realized that was the reason until now.

“I understand,” he replied, and she felt that he really _did_. “I can arrange for you and the child to have your own apartment—“

“No, that’s okay,” Kimora assured him quickly, thinking of how hurt her mother and grandmother would be.

“Alright then,” he agreed, as if he understood exactly her reasoning. “Well, good night, _ma chère_ , I—“

“Do you have a minute?” Kimora said suddenly, impulsively. There was a fractional hesitation on his part and she immediately felt embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really. Never mind. You seem busy—“

“Never too busy for you,” he promised, and he seemed both charming and sincere at the same time. “Have a seat.” He guided her to one of the little tables. “What can I do for you, Kimora?”

She realized suddenly that she didn’t actually know. She just wanted to sit with him a little, because he calmed her rattled nerves and made her feel safe, and she had been lacking in those things the last few days. “The news—“ she began awkwardly. “The flooding sounds—awful.”

“It is,” he agreed soberly.

“I heard you’d been down there.”

He nodded slowly. “I have been trying to help my people,” he told her, which struck her as an odd phrase, “but I must accept the limitations of what I may do.” He smiled then, as if acutely aware of bringing the mood down, and leaned in to place a hand on Kimora’s on the tabletop. His skin was pleasantly cool against hers, and comforting. “You must not worry. I will take care of you and yours.”

“I feel like I ought to be doing something,” she confessed.

“You are,” he assured her. “You are taking care of the child and her family. And that helps _me_ , so that I may help others.”

With someone else that would have sound patronizing or trivializing, but Kimora had not failed to notice the new faces around the building every day, the people who spoke of being rescued from the football stadium or the rooftop of a house and given sanctuary here. Lio _was_ doing something to help, and that made her feel better about the terrible things she saw on TV.

“I wonder—“ Kimora began, and Lio gave her an encouraging look. “There are people that I know, from town—friends—I wonder if there’s a way to find out if they’re alright? I know there’s the Red Cross hotline, but they always say there’s a huge backlog—“

“Give their names and descriptions to one of my assistants,” Lio told her, but not in a dismissive way. “We will look for them as we roam the city. You may invite anyone you like to stay here,” he added. “Call all of your family and friends and have them come here if they don’t have other arrangements.”

“Thank you,” Kimora said gratefully.

They were quiet for a long moment. She didn’t want him to go but didn’t know what else to say, either. “You might enjoy exploring the archives tomorrow,” Lio suggested unexpectedly. “They contain records of our shared family history. Alizee is not the first result of our lines becoming intertwined,” he reminded her, and somehow it didn’t sound creepy or sinister as when her grandmother made similar comments.

“I know,” Kimora agreed. “My great-great-grandmother Rose was a Nightbird child.”

“That’s right,” Lio nodded. “But the connection goes back even further. There was a woman named Hallie who was freed from slavery by one of my ancestors, and they had a child together. His name was Liberty,” he added, “and they lived in New Orleans.”

Kimora stared at him in surprise. “I didn’t realize there were records back that far.”

“Oh yes,” he assured her. “Look for the archives tomorrow. I think you will find them very interesting.” Regretfully he pulled his hand away from hers and stood. Kimora stood as well. “Names and descriptions to an assistant,” he reminded her, and she nodded. “Tonight, if you like. I’m heading down to the delta now.”

“I shouldn’t keep you,” Kimora noted. He gave her a courteous parting nod and turned to leave. “Thank you,” she said again suddenly.

“No, _ma chère_ ,” he corrected with sincerity, “thank _you_.”

**

Lio slipped quietly between the makeshift shelters erected in the stadium, the sounds of human misery and despair surrounding him like white noise. He rose above it, above the stench and the heat, the earthy tang on his lips, the wasteland barely cloaked by darkness, as he rose above them every day. It reminded him of a scene from long ago, when humans were little more than barbarians, just aware enough to realize the poverty of their existence.

But he was here to help, in his way, and he strode down the muddy paths looking for those he’d been told about, who had potential.

“Nightbird.” The voice was soft, feminine, and stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, his white suit gleaming in the moonlight, untainted by the filth around him.

The young woman leaned against the side of a corrugated metal shack that looked as though it would come tumbling down any moment. She wore torn sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt, and her hair was a frizzy mess. But she met Lio’s gaze with a curious confidence.

“Good evening,” he began cordially, trailing off slowly as he gazed at her. “Miss…?”

“You don’t recognize me, Nightbird?” she accused, in a honeyed drawl. A tinge of bitterness poisoned her tone. “Well, we are not as we used to be.”

Her eyes flashed in the moonlight and Lio’s breath caught. “You are of the Cat People,” he realized. She snorted softly, as though his revelation were worth little. He stepped closer, confusion etched on his face. “What are you doing in this place?”

She shrugged idly. “The same as everyone else. Trying to survive, and praying for a miracle.”

“But why did you not leave?” Lio persisted, turning his snow-white hat in his hands. “Did you not foresee this?”

The young woman shrugged again. “We are not the seers of old,” she admitted, as though she had long ago accepted this. “Our power has grown weak. I have a little tarot shop in the old part of town—“ She paused a long moment, then corrected, “Had. Besides, where would we go, and how would we get there?”

Impulsively Lio took her hand. It was warm and pulsed with life, with energy. “Perhaps your power is merely dormant,” he suggested. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Perhaps we can come to some arrangement,” he told her, “which is of mutual benefit.”

Delicately she pulled her hand from his. “I would need to have that in writing,” she replied immediately. Her tone was saucy, but her eyes serious. She had known he was coming, and had prepared for their meeting.

“Of course,” Lio promised, stepping back a pace. That was the way things were done now.

“My family must leave the camp tonight,” she continued. “As a gesture of good faith.”

Lio’s lips twitched slightly. “You lack faith in me?”

“I have heard the stories of my ancestors,” she assured him. “We have learned to be… wary of your people.”

He smiled at her, charming, indulgent. “There is no need for that. We should have united long ago.”

Her eyes turned colder suddenly, and he was reminded strongly of one of those ancestors, a priestess in her temple, scorning him. “We are at a disadvantage now,” she stated. “I have no more to offer than any of the other young women here. Whom you… arrange.”

Lio was not one to take offense at such remarks; he had heard many worse. And her implication—that he was using this tragedy to his advantage—was, in a word, true. “Eglantine,” he summoned, and a beautiful nymph appeared beside him, her fashionable business suit as out of place in the camp as his own. “See that this young lady and her family are transferred to a hotel tonight. And prepare a contract for her.”

“My grandparents need to see a doctor,” she cut in quickly.

“Whatever is needed,” Lio told the nymph, who nodded professionally and turned to the woman with an assessing gaze. “I look forward to hearing more about your family,” he added cordially.

“I’m sure you do.” He nodded slowly, then turned and walked on, still thinking. ‘Thank you’ had been noticeably absent from their conversation, but Lio didn’t expect it—maybe later, _after_ they had been rescued from this cesspool. Then again, he wasn’t acting entirely from the goodness of his heart here, as she had pointed out. He would get getting something valuable from the arrangement as well, and he was well pleased with himself already.

**

“…and Shailene La Croix keeps adding new demands to her contract,” Eglantine reported sourly.

“Who?” questioned Lio. “That’s very fine,” he assured the little boy next to him, who scribbled with a crayon on some paper.

“He’s angry,” Faith worried, touching her hand to the boy’s forehead. “He’s thinking of the storm.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Lio shrugged.

“She’s the cat lady,” Eglantine said.

“What? Oh,” Lio realized. “What does she want this time?”

“More names added to her list of family members,” Eglantine explained. “She has twice as many as anyone else already!”

“Add them,” Lio insisted, as though the nymph should have known that. “I _want_ her signature. Today.” Eglantine nodded and left. Faith merely quirked an eyebrow in amusement.


End file.
